


Prophet of the Arcana

by catsdamp



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: (kind of?), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Arcana au, Asra and fan apprentice, Asra and reader, Asra x me, Conflict, F/M, Familiars, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Loss of Innocence, Loss of Trust, Magic, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Visions, a past kind of believable but totally fake, historical fiction - Freeform, oof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-05-06 00:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14630568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsdamp/pseuds/catsdamp
Summary: You were forced to wipe your own memories in order to protect your old love as a vicious Count demanded your presence as a forseer of fortune at his palace. It's been a year, and you remember nothing, and have given yourself fully to the arcana as their mouth piece, vowing chastity. All seems fine. But of course, all is not. You're plagued by premonitions of danger to come.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Idk i was listening to hellfire and immediately thought of count lucio lusting after a female apprentice who vowed to be chaste and just immediately had an idea of a story for this weird au i have going on
> 
> Theres like a temple involved and like semi religious bullshit and idk i hope you enjoy. Dont expect me to update super frequently because i have hella school. 
> 
> Also there may be spoilers? Or not? I really honestly dont know but i just have this idea in my head of like a female apprentice basically being like a priestess of the arcana or something?? We'll see where it goes. Thanks for stickin with my weird bullshit lol and reading.

A silver snake. Amethyst eyes. Scarlet hair. Blood. Lips mouthing your name. An altar. White roses. A manicured hand. A brilliant owl. Blood dripping from sharp white teeth. Screaming. Intense pain. A sharp ringing growing louder, and louder, and louder. Deafening. And at last, fire, consuming all.

You woke with a start. Sweat covered your forehead, hair sticking to your neck. Your satin sheets clinging to wet skin. You'd been having this dream for a while now. You can't remember when it began. You can barely remember anything. 

You’d been having premonitions in the form of dreams for a long time. It's why you were invited to the palace in the first place. But you can't remember any time before the palace. Just a vague memory of cinnamon and honey. Love. Warmth. Home. 

Did those memories even exist in the first place? Or were those just your own mind trying to fill in the gaps for you?

You pulled a white chiffon over dress atop your usual sleeping garments. The count’s wife had made sure you had all the clothing you would need to be comfortable here. The night’s clothes consisted of soft cloth shorts and a tank like top. Them being kept under the sheer robe kept an air of modesty to you. You simply looked like an ethereal ghost of purity. 

Not wishing to return to sleep, fearing the dream again, you pulled on some light slippers and began to walk through the garden. Your mind always cleared while you were surrounded by the greenery and the earth. The flowers. The light tinkling of the fountain in the middle. 

The garden liked to play tricks on you sometimes, though. 

Sometimes out of the corner of your eye you could see figures. One in particular. You couldn't fully see him, but he was light. Tan. Fluffy hair. He calmed you. You yearned to see his gaze. Tonight was no different. 

You sat at the edge of the fountain, dragging your fingers lightly through the water. It was perfectly clear, reflecting the stars in the night sky, the swirling, deep blues that held them in their place. Your own reflection seemed calmed, if not a bit melancholy. Your hair cascaded over your shoulder, undone, slightly disheveled. Your face was still a bit flushed from the dream. 

 

You tore your gaze away, stepping away from the fountain. Lying in the grass, you allowed your eyes to close. It seemed only dozing here granted your mind peace. A deterrent of sorts. You were exposed and vulnerable here, yes, though you felt like the garden itself would protect you. And somehow, the palace seemed more threatening. In that dark room. 

You drifted to sleep.

****

Lucio had seen you leave from his own window. What's the damned apprentice doing at this hour? You were a white vision, glowing, against the dark night. So pure. He knew you'd taken a vow of chastity ever since you'd vowed to serve in the chapel for the palace. You were a priestess of sorts, a servant of the divine gift you had of foresight. That made you all the more intriguing. Something you cannot have. 

Or should not have. 

You couldn't evade him forever. Your protector no longer could protect you. Not in the palace, at least. Though instinctually, you always seemed to enter the garden. As if in your heart you knew Lucio couldn't reach you there, but he could. You can't have remembered. It was impossible. But the heart of someone in love can be magical. 

****

You were asleep. Soft breaths escaped your mouth. You were quite the sight. A slumbering angel in the grass. Your hair swirling around you, cradling you. Asra knelt beside you, caressing your face. 

This was a sort of nightly occurrence for him. You didn't see him. But he would protect you in the night. As you slept, he would redo protective charms on you. It was all he could do for you. 

He had allowed you into the belly of the beast. He had no choice, of course. Lucio had threatened your life. Asra couldn't watch you die if he could stop it. But, your memories were erased, locked away. A prison of your own design which only you could break. Your own counter measure to protect him in return. 

And like every night, he would kiss your forehead, breathing sweet dreams into your mind. It was painful, only being able to see you as you slumbered, unable to remember him. He was terrified for you to even see him. He knew your spells were powerful. Who knows what could happen? 

Through the brush a branch broke. Instantly alert, Asra sat up. Footsteps approaching. 

Through the brush a young serving maiden came, suspicious. Her scarlet hair was tied in a ribbon, a comfortable white shirt sitting on her shoulders. She sighed as she looked at your slumbering body. Only you, again. 

“You really need to stop falling asleep out here,” she muttered to herself. She felt your forehead to make sure you weren't feverish, and carefully nudged you. Fast asleep, like usual. You looked peaceful, though. 

She shook you gently, as your eyes slowly opened, a yawn escaping your mouth. “Portia...?” you questioned. 

“You fell asleep out here again. I know you have trouble sleeping in the palace, but you honestly need to stop doing this!” She sighed. “You should talk to the Doctor in the morning. He's bound to have something that will help your dreams.”

“Would you mind allowing me to sleep in your cottage again? Just this last time,” you pleaded. The cottage almost felt warm and protecting to you, too.

“Fine. Just this last time. But tomorrow I'm taking you straight to the doctor. Clear?” 

“As rain,” you replied. Unbeknownst to the both of you, a beautiful owl was watching you both through the trees. It soared again, back to its owner at the palace. 

“Ah, sleeping in the garden again, was she?” the countess spoke to her bird. “I suppose it's alright, if just one more time. It's not like it's dangerous there, anyway. Maybe I can convince my husband to build her a quarters there.”

Nadia returned to her bed, attempting to remove the constant headache she seemed to have. She never slept side by side with her husband. They'd consummated the marriage of course, but only once. They could barely stand each other. It was strictly political on Lucio’s part. 

As you slumbered yourself on Portia’s small window seat, you dreamt of a beautiful man with soft white hair. You could never quite remember his features entirely. Only his vibrant purple eyes.


	2. Newcomer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day starts out as normal, until a newcomer to the palace brings about out of the ordinary occurences for you. What will become of this strange new person?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided instead of saying "MC" (mystic messenger flashbacks) im gonna put An whenever the apprentice's name is mentioned so it seems still natural to write while having an alternate meaning. I picked "An" mainly to mean "Apprentice Name" for you to fill in. Gosh i hope people read this note. 
> 
> In other news, this chapter literally took me a week to write. I kept writing and erasing then rewriting because i wanted to keep the sort of flow i maintained in the first chapter. Im sorry if i dont live up to your expectations ^^; 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. Im gonna try to update this thing every saturday, at least once a week, but we'll see if i actually manage 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

The sound of a kettle loudly whistling woke you from your slumber. You groaned slightly, sitting up, your overdress slightly slipping off of your shoulder. It wasn't even dawn yet.

“Oh, good, you're awake,” Portia remarked, pouring the hot water into two mugs, steeping tea. “I figured you should get back to your own quarters before the sun rises. It's unladylike for all of the men around to see you in your bed clothes.”

“What kind of tea is it?” You ask, accepting the mug she puts into your hands. 

“Mint and jasmine. My own personal favorite. Honey?” You nod as she drips a bit of the amber liquid into your hot drink. A pang of remembrance hits you, but it's gone just as quick as it came. 

You both drink your tea in silence as Portia gives a scrap of meat to her cat Pepi. She finishes faster than you, for she doesn't have the luxury of breathing in the lovely scent of the herbs. 

As she gets ready for the day, you finish up your own drink, and braid your hair as you wait to embark back to the palace with her. It's become an almost routine with her. Tea in the early mornings at her table, as you help her with some of her early chores before slipping back into your own quarters. She's become one of your closest friends here. 

Once you've finished, you both enter your room. She dresses you in a chiffon dress the color of pearly pink, and a veil around your head, obscuring much of your hair aside from the tail end of your braid. It's loose, yet modest. At last, you paint two stars beneath your right eyes, signalling your status as the Prophet.

She leads you to the library. “Why are we stopped here?”

“This is where the doctor works. He's probably drunk and asleep at his desk, but he'll be coherent enough.” She undoes the copious amount of locks to the library, and opens the door. 

As you both ascend the steps to his desk, sure enough, a large figure is hunched over a desk, a quill haphazardly strewn on the floor. “Ily--” ahem “Doctor Devorak,” Portia says in a loud voice. 

“Pasha, what's with the formalities? Always so cautious.” The doctor rises, turning around to greet his visitor, before going still as he realizes it isn't only Portia. You pull your veil slightly over your face, and peek at the looming man. 

“This is An. The Forseer. She's been having trouble sleeping for a while.”

You dip your head slightly in acknowledgement.

“Ah, yes, I know this..” he reaches out his hand to shake, and you instinctively pull back. Ever since you vowed, touching people is a luxury reserved for the few which you trust. 

“Ah, yes, I'm sorry. I, uh, forgot the whole, uh, vow thing.” His pale skin somehow blushes to the color of strawberries, similar to the shade of his hair. 

“It's fine. I shouldn't have been rude. I apologize.” You hold out your own hand this time, and he shakes it profusely. 

“Well, there are a lot of options, but I feel the best would be to have a cup of chamomile before you rest at night. It has quite calming properties, and isn't so unpleasant.” He smiles, and hands you a small tied cloth bag. You smell it, and are hit with the sweet scent of dried herbs and flowers. 

“Can I offer you my talents in return?” you ask, studying the doctor. He blushes instantly. 

“It’s just my duty as a doctor. I wouldn't want to, er, taint you in any way with my horrible--" 

“It's just a reading of your future. I promise, it's no inconvenience.” You pull out your deck of cards and kneel on the ground, nodding to the space across from you. 

You had these cards when you came to the palace. You don't remember where they're from. But there's a familiar aura to them that comforts you. Yet at the same time, unsettles you, with the voices each card speaks to you and only you. 

You split the deck for him, and go through the motions. He taps the card he wants, and you flip it over. Judgement. Upright. 

You close your eyes as the voice of the bull speaks to you. “Your own insecurities are holding you back. No one else will judge you as hard as you judge yourself. Follow your instinct, Julian.”

You open your eyes to see him watching you with fascination. “Did you just sort of make that up on the spot?”

Portia instinctively braces herself for your offense, but instead you laugh. “I suppose, in a way. I'm not completely sure exactly what happens when I read.” 

“So it’s like your own subconscious speaking, yes? How interesting. I would love to talk more about this, I'm fascinated, imagine the scientific breakthroughs that could happen if I make sense of thi--"

“Ilya!” Portia raises her voice. Then, realizing her temper, regains her composure. “I'm sure An would love to, but remember, she’s here as a guide for the Count. She's likely very busy.” 

You gather your cards and put them back away. “It was nice to meet you, Doctor.” you give a warm smile as you stand again. 

As Portia escorts you out of the library, in the ornate hall, you pass another servant leading a man the direction you're coming from. You catch a glimpse of his face in the split second your eyes meet. His features are soft, like brown sugar. His eyes a vibrant violet. Bright pearlescent hair softly falling on his cheeks. His outfit is as bright as himself. His aura gives off a mischievous vibe, reminiscent of something you can't quite place. But just as soon as you see him, you're both moving past each other quickly, to where you both need to be. 

The chapel is bright in the dawning sun, the light filtering through the stained glass in a kaleidoscope of colors. The ornate doors close behind you, as you begin to attend to your daily duties. 

You light the fragrant incense, the smoke wafting through the pews. You change the water in the sieve, with fresh instead. You sweep the floors, and tidy the pews, replacing the cushions for kneeling, and changing the thin curtain partition that conceals you from those asking guidance. The new cloth is a beautiful sheer blue color, reminding you of the sky on a slightly cloudy day.

You ring the bells, signalling that the chapel is now open, and take your place behind your curtains. The day is usually uneventful, with not many from the city wishing to make the trek to the palace just to state their grievances and seek guidance from the ancient beings known to you as the Major Arcana. A few palace staff may come in, and ask for good blessings of health or weather. But it typically doesn't go further than that. 

You kneel there, sometimes for hours on end, just meditating with your deck of cards, trying to listen to the voices. They never speak in a tongue you recognize, but with a strange clarity, you understand every word. 

It's boring. But it's what you're here for. Your purpose. You take it seriously. It’s your duty, a duty only you can do, as far as you know. 

The usual patrons come by, asking for the usual guidances and blessings. But at a point, a new patron kneels at the bottom of the three steps at your altar. While the partition is typically to conceal your own features, as you as an individual don't quite matter anyway, it also conceals your patron’s face. You can only see vague features and outlines. 

“What guidance may I offer you?” Your voice is monotonous and soft. The patron doesn't respond. For a moment, you worry that you didn't speak loud enough. As you breathe in and open your mouth to repeat yourself, he speaks. 

“Prophet, are you happy?”

You're almost taken aback by the question. What does it matter that you're happy or not? Your only purpose is to be the mouthpiece of the higher powers you serve. It doesn't matter one bit whether you're happy, only that you're doing your job correctly. At least when you're on duty. 

“I am happy to serve,” is the only answer you can really give. 

The patron chuckles. “I didn't ask if you liked your job. I asked if you were happy.”

The audacity of this man! Didn't he know that while you were in the chapel, your only matter was that you aid and bless? “As I said, I am fulfilling my purpose. So yes, I suppose I am happy.”

“I'm glad. Might you give me a reading for the day?” 

“Of course. Approach.” 

The man sits closer to you, as you split your deck into the three piles. He taps on one, and you fan them. He chooses his card as you're pulling the rest of the deck back together. You flip it. Justice. 

“You seek fairness to the situation you find yourself in. The truth will come out. Trust in her.”

“Ah, is that what she says? I guess I should have a bit more faith in her.” He lingers, searching through the veil at your face, searching your own features. You unintentionally do the same. At long last, he sighs, and stands up. “Thank you very kindly for the reading, Prophet.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice. 

“May the Arcana guide your heart, mind, and spirit.” 

As you say the final word, a breeze rustles the curtain separating the two of you. Just briefly, you can see your patron unobscured. 

His features are soft, almost like they've been molded by clay, and glowing. His hair is a perfect mess of pearlescent curls, framing his cheeks. His body is… toned. Muscular. His shirt is revealing, you can almost see down half of his torso. He has on a jacket, if you can even call it that. It doesn't seem to do much protecting from the cold. And his eyes… vibrant, unmistakable purple.

There's no doubt. He was the newcomer you saw earlier this morning. 

“I-i apologize for staring, sir,” you stutter out. The curtain is there for anonymity to both you and the patrons as they come for counsel. You've broken trust by not immediately turning away. 

“It’s no issue, An,” he replies, a hint of laughter at your flustered response. You freeze.

“You know my name?”

A pause. “I've come to the palace before. We may have met in passing.”

“I'm quite positive we've never met before.”

“Or perhaps I admired from a distance.” 

“I must remind you I've vowed myself to my duty.”

“Hence the distance.”

You fail to stop yourself from chuckling. “Quite bold of you to say, mysterious patron.” The bell signaling the start of the sunset rings, meaning that your time for hearing requests are over. “My time is done. Thank you for requesting patronage of the Arcana.” 

You wait for him to leave, and then stand up yourself, parting the curtain again. You put out the candles you had set, and clean away the ashes from the incense stick you had burned throughout the day, putting a new one in its place. At last, you sweep the floors again. 

As you put the broom back, you notice something peculiar. None of the windows in the chapel had been opened. No fresh air had entered the chapel the entire day, aside from the opening and closing of the large arching wooden doors at the back. Strange. 

You leave, locking the doors with the key you keep around your neck, and head to the bath. No one is usually there at this time. Portia is waiting at the doors, and leads you in. She undoes your clasps, and then leaves you to bathe alone. 

You undo your veil, and untie your braid. You sink into the cool, milky water. Your hair floats around you, in curling spirals. You sink to your nose, taking in the fresh smells and serene atmosphere.

You're so serene, in fact, that you don't realize you aren't alone until the water ever so softly laps further up your face. You open your eyes to find the countess sinking across from you, similarly unwinding. 

“I didn't mean to give you a start, Lady An,” she speaks. “I figured you had heard me enter.”

“It wasn't too frightening, your grace,” you assure. “For the briefest moment I almost thought that boy from earlier had snuck in here to catch a glimpse.”

“If any man were to attempt to taint your virtue, I would hope you tell me,” she remarks, almost taken aback from your words. “I didn't realize you had had time to mingle today apart from your duties.”

“He was just a new patron. I don't think he's been here long, anyway. I had only just met him today in passing. I assume he just doesn't realize the customs.” You close your eyes again, and lean your head back again. “I don't suppose you happen to know anyone who's just come to the palace?”

The countess sighs, and you feel the water lap against you as you assume she sinks further. “Just some new magician offering his talents in the fight against the plague. Though with him being a magician, I would assume he knows of the customs you hold. The ideologies overlap in some ways.” She groans. “More and more come every day, and as such, are stranger and stranger than the last. Today's visitor was a delightful break from routine.”

“A magician? Considered tame?” You open an eye and regard her. “You're becoming desensitized, your grace.”

“Well, not everyone can be as lovely company as yourself, Lady An.” She rises, wringing out her hair of the soapy water. You wait until she moves behind the partition to do the same at the other partition. “Portia! Might you assist me, dear?” The servant rushes in, eager to help. You pull on your own garments, this time a silk dress the color of autumn that reveals your collarbone, the sleeves slightly starting past your shoulders. Your feet are adorned with flats, a slight heel at the back, just enough to make a clack. It's more revealing than you're used to, but it's just dinner. You pull your wet hair back into a ponytail with a ribbon, tying it with a soft bow to keep it in place. As you exit, so does the countess. 

The three of you head towards the dining room, at which point Portia branches off towards the kitchen, and you and the countess enter to sit. As usual, the count is sitting at the head. You sit off to the side of the long table, several places away from the looming Lucio. Nadia takes her place on his right hand side. 

Usually, Lucio has a few dancers brought in to keep him entertained, and a few musicians to play music as accompaniment. Tonight, it is silent. Somehow, the lack of such in the room is more intimidating. The Count regards you with almost hungry, red eyes. You do your best not to squirm under his gaze, feeling conscious of your revealed shoulders.

One by one, the researchers to the end of the plague enter and take seats. That must explain the lack of music. This is a meeting of sorts. The doctor comes in, and you give him a warm smile. He averts his eyes, blushing slightly. At last, it seems everyone's joined. You all watch the Count expectantly. You're a bit curious yourself. Usually with meetings like this, you're excused to eat alone, since your reason for being at the palace isn't technically completely related to the plague. 

The count looks visibly annoyed, still eyeing the door. “Always has to make an entrance, doesn't he,” he mutters under his breath. You return your gaze to the door. 

At last, the final guest enters, accompanied by two pages. It's the same man from before. From the hallway. And from the chapel. You struggle to keep yourself from gaping. The only seats are next to you, since others are too conscious of your vows to sit there. He bows as he enters. “Apologies for my tardiness. I must have been caught up in my work, your highness.”

“About time you showed up,” Lucio grumbles. “Take a seat. I'm starving.” 

The magician moves himself in graceful strides, towards a seat to your right, closer to Lucio. You want to inch away towards the other seat, so that there is at least one between the two of you, but it would come off as rude. You bite down your urge, and sit still, keeping your eyes at your lap. 

Servants move to bring out the first course, as Lucio begins to explain himself. “The plague is spreading faster. Normally I wouldn't especially mind, it's not news that it's spreading, except it’s nearing very very close to the capital. If i can't even protect the largest city, how do you think that looks on me as a ruler? They'd hate me!”

Well, his motivations are a bit off. But at least he's doing something good. 

“Until now you've been working independently. It's going too slowly. To speed things up, I want you to work together. Preferably in partnerships.”

A red haired woman in dark clothing eagerly raises her hand. You think her name is Volta. A Procurator. “Countyyy! How can we work in pairs if there's an odd number of us?” 

Lucio smiles. “The young woman in the back doesn't count. In fact, she's here to determine the partnerships.” All eyes fall on you. You clench your fists in your lap and begin to blush. “She's our lovely little priestess, yes? She should be able to match people up effectively. After all, she has celestial guidance, doesn't she?”

Priestess. That doesn't exactly describe what you are. Why didn't he just call you the prophet? The word priestess sounds so much more… powerful? Pure? You suppose it would be impolite to correct him. After all, he gave you that title in the first place. 

You're sick to your stomach either way, at the newfound responsibility that's been suddenly thrust upon you. 

“Now, enough talk. Let's eat!” Lucio begins to dig into his meal. As he eats, he’s animalistic, yet refined. Like the king lion eating before his pack. As he takes his first bite, the rest of you ensue, conversation picking up around you.

You pull apart bits of a bread roll, the only thing you're really able to stomach at the moment. Everyone eyes you with curiosity as they stuff their faces and speak. Don't look, don't listen to what they say. Keep calm. 

“I take it by your reaction, he didn't tell you that you would be doing this.” 

The begin of conversation startles you. You look next to you, into his magenta eyes. “I suppose I should practice keeping my emotions from my face more.” You look away, flustered. 

“Why would you do that? I think showing emotion is one of the most attractive things a human can do.” You couldn't see his face anymore, but you could bet ten gold pieces he had a cheeky grin on his face. 

“Quite the flirt, are we, magician?” 

“Oh? Simply stating my opinion.” He chuckles. “You can call me Asra.” 

There's a weird familiarity to that name that you can't quite place. It's on the tip of your tongue, but the more you reach the further it gets from you. 

“Don't think too hard about it. It's just a name.” Chuckling again. You can feel heat creeping across your cheeks. 

“Asra, perhaps you can enlighten us on how exactly your craft works.” Lucio interrupts whatever flow between the two of you was happening. His red eyes pierce not into you, but Asra, almost annoyed. Envious? You can't place the emotion with all of the swirling auras in the room. 

“Ah, well, it's nothing particularly special,” he begins. “It sort of just… comes naturally.” His fingers snap at the last word, and stream of white sparks fly from his fingertips. Beautiful. Those around the table oo and aa. “Of course there's concentration, but it's not more difficult than calling the magic from within yourself.” The doctor is particularly interested. Probably wondering the science behind it, no doubt. “I mostly use it to aid illnesses typically hard to cure in the city.” 

Ah. Like an alchemist of sorts. That would seem to coincide with a lot of Julian’s expertise. Maybe they should be paired together. Much like spirit and law should coincide. Oh, another pair. Pontifex Vulgora and Procurator Volta. 

As more begin to speak about their particular talents, you continue making mental groups of what would work well with what. It wasn't what was likely expected of you, but a plan is still a plan. Maybe that was Lucio’s true goal in breaking up your own conversation. To reinstate your focus. Even if it wasn't, it seemed to do just that. 

At last, the dinner drew to a close. Lucio put everyone into a line, you at the front. Everyone was wondering what magical deed you would do to match everyone up. It wouldn't be anything nearly as interesting, but you could make it seem that way, at least slightly. You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and began. 

You began with touching one’s cheek with your hand, then almost letting your other hand guide you to the other person. Once you were done, they would be free to go. It was only a brief touch. Not lingered too long. You got some “oos" for yourself, some even saying they felt a spark from your hand. At least it worked. 

You don’t do it to the doctor and the magician, since they’re the only two left. As you back away, Lucio touches the bare skin at the nape of your neck with his metal hand, preventing you from going back further. “Don't you need to test their compatibility, like with the others?” 

Right. You give a half nod, and slowly bring your hands to touch them both. As your hand connects with Asra’s you feel a spark. This time for real. You only slightly jump, so as not to give away your cheating at the test Lucio gave you. “G-great. You can work together.” you quickly pull back, averting your gaze. “I'm rather tired, my count. I think I might retire early.” 

“You worked hard today. Rest well.” As you turn to go, he grabs your arm, almost forcefully. You force yourself not to flinch away from him. He speaks so only you can hear. “Don't forget your place. You serve me.” You nod, spooked a bit by the words, and rush off towards your room. 

You fall asleep restlessly in the night. Tonight, the usual dreams don't come. Only one. A warning. “Be careful.”


	3. Sunday Strolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's your day off! Endless possibilities await. How will the day unfold?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm going strong with my once a week update holy shit I'm so proud lol. I think I'm going to write maybe three or four more happy chapters just to continue building the world and relationships, before everything hits the goddamn fan lmao. 
> 
> Oh, did I mention I have a twitter? If you wanna see updates, or if you're wondering where the next one is if I end up not posting one day, you can check updates there. You don't need to follow it, it's just there for your own convenience if you have questions! You can check it out @catsdamp_! 
> 
> Also, if you were wondering what exactly I got the whole "vow of chastity apprentice" thing from, I kinda drew inspiration from the Vestal Virgins of Rome! I thought it fit, since Vesuvia is basically an homage to Pompeii at the base of Mt. Vesuvius I'm pretty sure. I've always dug the Vestal Virgins, because they were a real part of world history and tied in with mythology and religion in Rome during that time. There are some gorgeous statues of them too that you can see with a quick google search, which I always found just absolutely captivating, the beauty hidden behind a veil. 
> 
> Thanks for keeping up with this fic! I appreciate it!

Sundays are for you. You can wander the palace, do what you please, as long as it's within reason. 

 

After that night at dinner, things around the palace had been working much smoother than you'd expected. The groups you'd formed happened to work just as well as you'd theoretically hoped they would. Things were going faster, and because of such, there was more room to slack off. The pressure was taken off all of the researchers once they had a partner to rely on. 

 

As you rose from your silky sheets, you took in the view of your room. In the early sun filtering through the window, everything took on an almost ethereal glow. Light caught everything ever so beautifully. You sighed as you got up, dressing yourself to begin the day however you'd wish to spend it. 

 

You picked a nice sleeveless white dress for underneath. The hem was embroidered delicately with lace flowers, floating in the fabric. You covered yourself with a beautiful silky light blue shawl which Nadia had gifted to you soon after your arrival. It shimmered like waves, catching light as you moved even the slightest. Truly breathtaking. All of Nadia’s picks seemed almost alive and magical in their own right. 

 

You opted for simply pulling your hair behind your ears today, with a light translucent veil to slightly cover it, pinned to your hair. Modest, yet not as completely covering as usual. At last, you slipped on your shoes, just simple slippers of silk, with a leather patch on the bottom so you didn't slip on the smooth marble. 

 

The palace was quiet today. You supposed the consuls were also having a break day, though you couldn't imagine Lucio have allowing that, especially if no true breakthroughs had occured yet. You carefully walked, peeking into rooms every now and then curiously to see what might be happening within them. At last, you found yourself entering the garden. Perhaps you could weed some of the flowers. 

 

You seemed to find yourself near the most beautiful part of the garden, though not one typically explored. You recalled Portia saying a lot of the plants grown here were poisonous. It wouldn't hurt to look though, would it? Even poisonous flowers need weeding too. 

 

A startlingly beautiful plant grew there. It grew in stalks, covered in small and delicate white flowers.  _ Veratrum. _

 

Veratrum? You don't remember learning that. Maybe you read it in a book. You dismiss it and move onto a new flower. 

 

The next was a few pink flowers, white at their base and dark at the tips of the petals. They too grew in bundles. You smelled cautiously. What a sweet smell.  _ Daphnes.  _

 

You continued on, somehow knowing the name to each flower.  _ Adenium. Laburnam. Aconitum.  _ The list went on and on. 

 

Maybe before you came to the palace, you were a florist. No, that wouldn't explain knowing the deadly flowers. An apothecary? That didn't make sense either. You were sought out for your gift. 

 

What was the extent to that gift? 

 

You wander out of the section of deadly plants. It was… worrying. You didn't need to remember. If you'd forgotten, it was for a reason. Right?

 

You found yourself sitting on the edge of the fountain, catching your breath. You felt dizzy. Your head stung just the slightest. Almost like if you reached into your skull with your fingers, you could find something. You rubbed your forehead. Your breath was shallowing, too. Why was it so difficult to remember? It was on the tip of your tongue. So close. Breath became faster, as you squoze your eyes harder. Just a bit further, maybe you could find it. Just a bit--

 

“An?” 

 

A curious voice took you out of your moment. Your breathing almost instantly returned to normal, and the pain in your head receded. Why were you in pain again? The thought was gone. 

 

You looked up to find the magician, the doctor standing near him, awkwardly looking away. Concern was in his eyes. 

 

“Ah, good morning,” you stammered out, standing from your spot. “Oh, ah, sorry if I interrupted you during some mission for your research.”

 

“Oh, its nothing urgent, as far as I know,” the doctor piped up. “He suddenly said he wanted to check the garden for something.”

 

Did the magician just… blush a little bit? No, it must have been your imagination. “I was thinking maybe some of the herbs could be used in our research. Besides, the garden isn't the worst place to be. Better than that musty library.” 

 

“I can’t imagine ever being bored surrounded by all of that knowledge,” you remark, gazing up towards the palace. The window from the library almost points exactly towards the garden. “It must be a nice place to read.” 

 

“Yeah, reading, research. Let's just get what we came here to get, yes? I wouldn't want Lucio to get in one of his moods at us taking so long.” The doctor almost seems to have ignored you. Or, more like he's politely avoiding your presence. You shoot them both a kind smile. 

 

“I'm sure you'll find what you need. I should probably go as well.” You bow your head slightly, as you leave them, walking further into the maze that is the garden. 

 

You find yourself along the river that surrounds the castle. In the sunlight, the vampire eels burrow deep into the mud, avoiding the day. Their skin is translucent in the sun, their organs easily viewed. They aren't an attractive sight either way, but you prefer them in the night. 

 

There are a lot of birds around, and even a few field mice dodging their hunting. One of the mice dodges an attack by fleeing into the river. It doesn't realize it's mistake until much too late. One of the eels immediately catches the mouse in its sea of razor teeth, sucking the small creature dry until its lifeless body floats again to the surface. You look away from the gruesome sight. Such is life, as is death. 

 

Seeing them reminds you of your first few days here. It was lonely, so, so lonely. You felt blank. You know you had a reason for being there, but it had isolated you so much. You remember watching the eels in the water late at night, another sleepless night when you couldn't escape your nightmares. You wondered what it was like, living such an existence as these eels. Feeling so cold, and dark, only wanting to feel that warmth, even if only fleeting. You felt much like them. A glorified vampire eel. Only there was no warmth. Only your duty. 

 

It's funny how much only a year can change a person. Now you wouldn't be happier than serving your own cosmic duty. There was no use in searching out more when there wasn't any such thing. This was all you could do, all you were supposed to do. You weren't a vampire eel. You were the Prophet of the Arcana. There was nothing else. 

 

But why did you suddenly feel that there was? 

 

A bell sounded in the distance. That must mean it was high noon. You must have spent a lot more time pondering than you'd realized. You begin heading back through the maze of flowers and greenery, towards the palace again. You ascend the steps, the cool, smooth marble welcoming under your feet after the uneven dirt ground. 

 

As you reach the doorway, a servant greets you eagerly. “Ah, Lady An, the Count has requested your presence at once!” 

 

You nod your head, pushing down the worry in your stomach. Could one of the pairings have gotten into a fight? If so, you were technically held responsible. It was you who paired them, after all. 

 

You entered the throne room carefully, kneeling and dipping your head as you crossed the threshold. “Now presenting the Maiden An.” 

 

“Oh, stop with that, come, come!” Lucio excitedly watched you approach. 

 

“How may I assist you, my Count?” You forced your voice not to quiver. 

 

“Your pairings are working marvelously! I thought perhaps I'd see this gift of yours firsthand at last.” His gold hand gestured to your bag. “Might you have your deck with you? I formally request a reading.”

 

You swallow, unclasping the bag at your hip and taking out your deck. Lucio's eyes thirstily drink your movements, most pointed at the shawl you wear. It takes everything in your power not to pull it tighter around you in comfort. You kneel at his feet, looking up at his looming figure. You can only see his intense eyes. Hands shuffle the deck, almost absentmindedly. You separate into the three stacks, and before you can ask him to choose, he is eagerly pointing. You flip over the card. 

 

Justice. 

 

You close your eyes, and let the words you hear flow from your mouth. 

 

“Whatever future decisions you will make or plan to make will have consequences. Think deeply before fully going through with it. Don't forsake yourself.”

 

His eyes bore into yours as you open them again, his fiery gaze upon yours. You can’t tell if he’s impressed, or if he’s angry at you being so honest, taking it a slight against him. After several beats, he smiles, and claps his hands. 

 

“How wonderful! How dramatic! You know how much I love dramatics!” He laughs. “You truly are a delight, An!” 

 

You rise, bowing again at your Count. “Is there any other way I may assist you, your grace?”

 

He grins harder. “In fact, I do think you can assist me.” 

 

***

It was an odd request, certainly. All he had asked of you was to accompany him as he checked in on the pairings you had made. Most of it was just standing at his side wordlessly as he checked in, questioning what exactly people were doing, and how their research was quite working. He had refused to visit the dungeons, saying it was too much of a hassle. The last stop was the library.

 

“An, maybe for this one, you can put your arm on mine. No doubt it’s a gigantic mess in there, I wouldn’t want you slipping,” Lucio recommended. It made sense, so you followed along with it. You knew how busy research could get, especially with such a deadline. 

 

He pushed open the large doors without announcement, revealing the scene before you. Papers were strewn about, most of them with messy handwriting and diagrams. Asra sat in a corner, lazily reading a tome as he bit into an apple, as Julian messily wrote notes in the margins of a research book. They both seemed wrapped up in… whatever they were doing. Lucio loudly cleared his throat. Julian jumped at the sudden noise, quickly turning his head, as Asra simply rose his head in mild curiosity. You stayed slightly hidden behind Lucio, your hands just lightly touching his arm. 

 

“Good afternoon, your grace,” Julian sputtered, closing his book with a slip of paper to keep his spot. “How may I serve you?” 

 

“Just come to check in on the progress,” Lucio replied, stepping forward, his arm tugging you to stand beside him, almost like a prize he was holding. “It has been almost a week, after all.” 

 

“Well, uh, not much has been advanced, of course,” Julian stammered, glancing at Asra. “Though we are making progress. Maybe Asra can help explain it?” 

 

The magician has his eyes on your hands attached to the Count’s arm. He presses his gaze up to Lucio’s own. The auras in the room swirl around them both, almost battling each other for dominance. “Well, I’ve been studying a lot of the herbs that would be used for magic protection, and comparing them with the Good Doctor’s own notes. Earlier today we harvested a few from the garden, hoping some of the poisons some of the flowers hold could be reversed to aid the cure to the plague.” He doesn’t seem any bit near as fearful as Julian is when addressing the Count. Almost.. Defiant? 

 

“That sounds incredibly promising!” The Count comes closer, eyeing some of the papers on the ground. “Have you started testing this yet?” 

 

“We’re, er, mostly forming a plan of attack before putting theories to the test. It’s safer that way, right your grace?” By the way he speaks, it’s almost as if the doctor is fearful to test their findings. 

 

“Trial and error works just as well. The infected will die anyway. May as well get some use out of them.” You look away. It’s no secret that many of those researching test on the sick. It doesn’t sit right with you, but it’s all there is to do. You feel there must be a more ethical way. Perhaps the doctor does as well. 

 

“Well, we could do _more_ of that trial and error if you let us get back to our research, if I may be so bold to say.” The doctor almost seems to wince at the magician’s outburst. The twitch of a smile almost appears on Lucio’s lips. 

 

“Of course, it must be taxing work!” Lucio turns, putting his hand on the small of your back to lead you out of the library. You slightly flinch at the sudden touch, but move forward towards the exit all the same. His hand doesn’t leave, only matching your pace. “Be sure to test it soon, though. I would hate for you to be too late. To test, of course.” A sly grin. You look over your shoulder as you cross the threshold, the door closing behind the two of you. As it closes, Lucio grins, moving his hand up your back and around your shoulder. You shiver and shrink away. 

 

“My Count, you know I shouldn’t be touched.” You hold your arms around you. You always feel so cold whenever he’s around. So vulnerable and bare. Like prey being hunted by predator. 

 

“Oh, my dear, I apologize. You know, of course, I would never! I am a married man, after all.” He grins, and bows in apology. “I will be sure to be more conscientious of your feelings, next time.” 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

By the time you’re back in the hallway, the sun is already beginning to set. So much for a day off. You sigh, as you make your way back to your quarters. Perhaps you can still have some time to spend for yourself. 

 

On counter of your vanity, you see a parcel, wrapped carefully in brown paper and tied with twine, a small note on the top. Carefully, you pluck the note.  _ I remember you saying something along the lines of wanting to read more. I figured you would enjoy this title. Enjoy. _

 

The handwriting is looping, yet messy. It’s easy to read unlike the doctor’s, yet not ornate like Nadia’s. You haven’t seen this script before. It dawns on you that it may be from the magician. 

 

Unwrapping the parcel, you find a book.  _ The Major Arcana and the Theory of Magic. _ Interesting choice. Perhaps he wanted a way to connect to you, or for you to connect to him. It isn’t terribly long, but you can tell there’s likely a lot of material for you to learn from. 

 

Flipping through the pages, you see great illustrations, until your eyes lock on a single one. It’s an illustration of a young magician surrounded by the major arcana, hearing their words. Underneath, in ornate script, reads, “The Listener.” 

 

Perhaps your connection to the Arcana is more than you’d been lead to believe. 

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Lucio is away on his biweekly hunt, you get some time to connect with a certain person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SO BUSY BUT I THINK NEXT CHAPTER THINGS ARE GONNA START GOIN SOUR
> 
> i tried to make up for it with a really long chapter but oof idk 
> 
> when lucio returns next week things are gonna start to go wildin

From your window in your bedroom, you watched the garish hunting party fade behind the horizon. In the morning sun, the bright red clothing of the hunters starkly contrasted the white of the horses they rode. An elaborate red carriage was pulled by the strongest of the mares, likely holding Lucio in the expensive silks and pillows, shouting that it was taking too long to reach the hunting grounds. You did not envy the noblemen accompanying him on this hunt. 

 

In fact, you greatly appreciated the absence.

 

Of course, the obvious positive was that you were able to escape the Count’s judging tone. Even if it wasn’t directed at you, it was grating. Everyone in the palace was always on edge. It approached the point where servants would cry and pray for blessings to protect them in your chapel. The week he would be gone would go by too quickly. 

 

The second positive was that it allowed for more lax behavior.

 

Without his constant nagging, the servants and the researchers were free to recuperate. Specifically the doctors were usually at the foot of his tantrums. They usually went along the lines of, “Well, it’s your job to heal things! Incompetent idiots.” 

 

Of course, that didn’t mean you were particularly able to enjoy the same freedom. You were still required to be in the chapel the entirety of the day, even if no one came by for blessings. But because no one came by, you were free to do other things to pass the time. Like meditating. Or daydreaming. Or… reading.

 

A plan began to form in your head.

 

There was still a small amount of time before you had to be in the chapel. It would be plenty for your purposes. With the small book in hand, you entered the library to find…

No one. 

 

The library was empty, save for the rows and rows of books and a few notes haphazardly thrown about the room. You stopped to examine one of the papers. A diagram of an elaborate procedure of some sort, with quickly scrawled notes you couldn't decipher. Another page showed a procedure having to do with the eyes, though you couldn't quite make out what with the messy writing. “Goodness, how is any work even done around here?” you wonder aloud. 

 

At last, you find yourself at the magician’s desk. It's strangely absent of any work. Curiously, you open one of the drawers. Your nose is met with delightful smells of herbs, myrrh, frankincense, sage. An amulet sits within, almost glowing, luring you to touch. Your fingers are close to the dark obsidian stone in the center of the pendant, almost feeling the cool touch of the stone although your fingers are still centimeters away. 

 

The feeling of something slithering across your foot startled you from your trance. You slam shut the door and jump, pointing your attention towards your foot. A brilliant python watches you curiously. Startled, you back away, tripping on one of the many papers, falling to the ground. 

 

“What are you doing in here?” 

 

You divert your attention to the magician, standing in the doorway. His usually playful tone is contrastingly cold and dark. His eyes glare into you, and in a split moment you almost feel as if you're drowning in the dry air. But as quickly as it appeared, its replaced by his playfulness again. “You took a pretty nasty fall.” He approached you, kneeling down with concern. 

 

“I-i was just looking for another book. And to return this one.” You pull the book sent to you from behind you, handing it to him. “I don’t think it's my kind of literature.” 

 

His eyes flit over the title, reading it. Then he places it on the ground beside himself. The snake from before wraps itself around his arm. “Are you hurt at all?”

 

“Is that your snake?” you ask instead, watching it. You readjust yourself slightly, only to be struck by a stinging pain from your left ankle. 

 

“Yes. May I?” He gestures towards your ankle. You nod. 

 

His hands caress you gently, moving up and down your bare shin. Reflexively, you pull away. “What are you doing?” 

 

“I'm trying to pull out the sprain. But I need to touch you to do so. Is that alright?” 

 

“I-i guess it's alright, if you need to…,” your voice trails off. His hands find themselves back on your leg, cooling and moving down to the ankle. At last, he pulls an invisible thread and you feel the pain disappear. “Amazing,” you mutter, rolling your foot to test it. The sprain is gone, instead replaced by a warm tingling as the smell of cinnamon fills the air.  

 

“Feel better now, An?” He smiles a warm smile at you, almost melting you with the comforting caramel gaze. 

 

“A lot.” 

 

He hops to his feet, and lends his hand out for you to help you up. “It's about time for you to leave, isn't it?” The bells in the chapel ring. Oh no. You're running late. You quickly gather yourself and rush out of the door, yelling your thanks as you run across the marble floor and to the chapel, your hands around your book. 

 

You finally make it to the chapel. You leave your things behind the curtain, quickly changing the water in the sieve and rushing to sweep the floors of any dust. At last, you sit down in your place, letting out a breath of satisfaction. You'll have to repent to the Arcana later for rushing your duties by cleaning extra thoroughly at the end of the day. 

 

The usual patrons come, most asking for the usual blessings on their luck and their crops. But occasionally, one would add in a prayer that Lucio’s hunt spend a week longer than the usual 1. You were glad for the partition, for it hid your grin at the sentiment. It was a normal day. Nothing of the usual. The bells rang signalling the end of the day, and you stood up from your spot behind the curtain. 

 

You began your end of day rituals with the water in the basin, as usual. As you were carrying it towards the door, it swung open without warning. Surprised, you stepped back, losing your balance and dropping the marble basin, shattering to the floor. You braced yourself for impact, but it never came. Instead you felt strong arms around you, saving from the fall. 

 

Once you realized you were okay, you looked up at your savior. The magician. Hyperaware of your close proximity to him, you pushed yourself away from him. “A-apologies for my clumsiness,” you splurt out, avoiding his eyes. You kneel down to collect the many sharp pieces of the basin. Oh goodness, one of the courtiers was bound to give you an earful over how expensive the basin was and how careless you were being. 

 

Before you could begin gathering, the magician stopped your hand. “You shouldn't just collect things that sharp so recklessly. You could hurt your beautiful hands. I believe you want those for your readings.”

 

“Flirt,” you mutter under your breath. He could be insufferable when he tried. You gathered a dustpan and gathered the pieces. The magician twirled his fingers, small streams of the water spilled dancing in the air. Gosh. He could at least try to help. And here you were thinking you needed to apologize further for your behavior. 

 

“What was that?” he asked, egging for a reaction. He looked at you sideways, his mouth rising at the corners in a mischievous smirk. “Did you just call me a flirt?” 

 

Your face grew hot. “W-well, that is what you are.” 

 

“Tell me, An, what warrants such a title that you've given to me?” 

 

You paused, this time looking him straight on. “Please, you know exactly what warrants my observation. For one, you're always wearing those shirts that can show almost your entire chest. It's quite overtly supposed to grab attention, isn't it?” 

 

He blushed. “Well-"

 

“In top of which, each time we've interacted, you've always said something vaguely praising to me.  _ Oh An be careful of your beautiful hands! You're so attractive when you express yourself!  _ I've said it before. You're totally a flirt.” 

 

He ponders your words for a moment. “Hmm. I suppose those do warrant question. But tell me, have you ever seen me behave that way with anyone else?” 

 

“Maybe not quite as overt, but you seem to make the doctor blush quite madly.” Asra let out a hearty laugh at that one. 

 

“Quite astute, aren't you, An?” He was watching you with the utmost fascination. His features up close were so much warm than you realized. Almost nostalgic. Comforting. And that expression. It was enough to make any ordinary girl swoon. “Perhaps I just find you captivating. Like the brightest star in the vast expanse of the sky.”

 

You look away, blushing and focusing on cleaning up again. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

 

“Eh, only if they blush the way you do.” You blush harder. What a teaser. 

 

Sitting here with the magician almost felt normal. Like you've done this a million times before, teased with each other a million times before. But you couldn't have. You don't remember meeting him before your time in the palace. But… you don't really remember any of your time before the palace. No trace of you in the outside world. But with Asra… it felt like maybe there could have been a thread there. The tiniest thread. 

 

You finish cleaning up. Asra offers to dispose of the broken glass, while you mop up the remaining water. You're left with your thoughts, and so exhausted from the day that you go straight to your room to rest. Portia brings you your dinner, and you thank her, forcing yourself to eat at least something before you fall asleep. 

Your head had barely touched the pillow when you felt someone gently shaking you. Groggily opening your eyes to the filtering morning sunlight, you turned to see Portia’s smiling face. “What time is it?” you asked.

 

“About seven thirty. I let you sleep a little while longer, since you seemed so exhausted. Oh, and why didn’t you mention the sieve that shattered? Consul Valerius would have had a fit if he wasn’t sent word on the hunt and came back to news.” 

 

“Oh, goodness, I forgot to write a letter when I came back to my quarters. I was just so tired.” You rub your forehead. “I’ll do that right away.”

 

“Luckily, An, you don’t need to anymore. A patron generously replaced it early this morning. It’s a bit different, but I feel like the change might be nice for your chapel.” She smiles serenely at you. 

 

She helps you into your dress, a modest white one for today, and helps to intricately braid your hair into buns. She places the veil over your head delicately, the fabric today covering your face, allowing you to just sheerly see your surroundings. It was probably better to be more cautious with your appearance anyway, especially considering your encounters without any sort of veil with the Magician. 

 

You entered the chapel on just as the bells began to ring. Ignoring the sweeping of the floor, you went to fill the new sieve, curious. On it’s own, it looked simple. Smooth white stone, brilliant, and perfect looking. Though as you began to fill it, the water seemed to shimmer with brilliant blues, prismatic rainbows appearing as it rippled. It was absolutely gorgeous. You stood watching it with wonder, moving your fingers to and from to see it shimmer in every possible angle. You were utterly fascinated by it. You’d never seen anything like it. 

 

“I take it you like the new sieve?” 

 

You jump and dart your head towards the doorway, grateful the veil could hide your childish blush. Asra leaned against the doorway, smiling. “Like nothing you’ve ever seen, right?”

 

“Y-yes…,” you fumbled, setting down the pitcher to fully turn to him. “It’s almost like…”

 

“Magic?”

 

“Yes.” You smile. “It’s silly to think about. I know it isn’t. Probably just how the water reflects from the stone.”

 

“Who’s to say?” He smiles wider. “You talk about magic like it’s a fairytale.”

 

“It basically is, to me. I can never use it.” You gesture towards your spot. “It’s not in the cards, so to speak. My duty is here.”

 

A pensive look crossed his face. “What if it wasn’t?” He stepped towards you. “What if this isn’t the path you’re supposed to take?” His eyes hold yours. He takes another step forward, indiscernible emotions looming in him. You feel yourself drifting subconsciously towards him, wanting to take his face in your hands, lean your forehead against his, comfort him, kiss--

 

You step back. “I took an oath. There is no other path to take anymore, Asr-- Magician.” You avert your gaze, not wanting to meet his eyes anymore. You can’t be thinking this way. It’s idiotic for you to. It could never be, and even if it did, you’d be betraying the oath, the promise you made. Your duty that you chose. It was best to separate yourself from him. No more first name basis. 

 

“I think you should go.”

 

You waited until you heard the door had closed for you to look back. 

 

No. You couldn’t ever even give the notion any thought. This must be some sort of test to test your loyalties. Some way that if you failed you would be punished. 

 

You made a mental note to request a heavier screen for further anonymity.

 

It was better to be alone.


	5. Return of the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucio returns, this time more gross than ever!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I know its been forever. A lot of stuff has happened! I know i always say this but im really gonna try writing more on this. Im currently transitioning into adult life this year and have finally finished all my college apps, as well as I'm moving. But hopefully by the end of the year I'll have at least 2 more chapters out. Oh, and side note, in like a chapter from now, things are going to get a lot darker. I think ive finally built the foundation up enough

The hunt had been lackluster. Though the yield had been fair, the thrill which the Count so eagerly searched for was absent. The prized kill he had struck, a rather beefy forest lion. Though she did not fight. She just gazed at him, as if mildly concerned by his presence. He struck her and the life was gone. Just like that. No chase. 

As the hunting party began to see the palace looming into view, a white bird sporting a yellow mane soared ahead, towards the Count's horse. He extended his guilded arm, the cockatoo gracefully landing. 

“Ah, Camio!” the Count exclaimed. “Tell me, what have I missed in my brief absence?” 

The cockatoo screeched, the notes almost sounding like it was screaming, “Montag, Montag!” The Count nodded, speaking back to the bird. The rest of the party attempted to hide their amusement and distaste of the Count's apparent madness when it came to that bird and those dogs. He truly seemed like a madman. However, like a madman, he would cut them all down in an instant if he so very felt like. 

As they finally approached the gates, the Count's demeanor changed to that of fury, as the cockatoo continued to screech at him. He kicked his horse in the side, barrelling towards the palace steps just a second after the gates began to swing open. He leapt off of the horse, slamming open the palace doors, stopping all just within the vestibule to gaze at him. “Have dinner ready immediately. I intend to meet with all of my court over dinner. Make sure its something the Magician will hate. By the time I exit the bathing chambers, I expect everything to be as I command.” 

As he stomped his way through the palace, the Countess, the insufferable wife she was, angrily blocked his path. He attempted to side step her, but she stood her ground. 

“My dear husband, just what do you think you're doing, coming here barking orders as if we've all attempted to usurp you?” Her tone was challenging. 

“You forget I'm the one with the power here. Besides, in my absence, our Prophet has been afraid to the point of veiling herself and asking for a confessional screen! Do you forget I am your Count and my eyes are everywhere?” He spits. “Do you forget I own all here? Do you forget you're only here for my own power, you Prakran letch?” He raises his hand to strike her, but stops himself. The threat alone is enough. “I expect you at dinner. Send in some whores to my bath, make yourself useful.” He sets off. 

 

The steam almost seems to melt off some of his furiosity, but as he settles into the bath, it only continues to fester within him. As the line of concubines enters, he studies each one. It isn't until he spots one with strikingly similar eyes to a peculiar prophet does he make up his mind. “You,” he gestures, and the rest leave. “What's your name?” 

“Petra, my lord.” 

“Well, dear Petra, do me a favor, and don't close those eyes of yours.”

 

***********************

Rumors of the Count's temper upon his return quickly spreads. As you retire in your room, awaiting to be called to dinner, you try to read the cards. You draw The Tower card, number sixteen. The voice speaks to you, raspy as usual, distressed, frantic. “Be wary. Trouble targeting you is certain to come. Trust nothing.” 

The air is chiller today, threatening the warm disposition the palace had in the illustrious Count’s absence. Nevertheless, you have already begun taking the precautions you feel you need. The warning is simply a reminder to you. A knock at the door leads you out of your contemplation. You pull your shawl around you and replace your veil, ready to face dinner. 

As soon as the doors open, you feel it. The air within is heavy, crackling with threat. It appears you have arrived a bit later than you were supposed to. The only seat open is on the direct left side of the count. You take your place. You likely will not speak during the meal anyway. It's likely only a discussion of progress on a cure. 

For the meal is ox tartare, with the darkest of red wines for drinking. Lucio’s favorite. As a priestess, you cannot partake in the consumption of alcohol or raw animals, so instead you have a small salad full with vegetables from the garden, and pomegranate juice for your drink. Those around the table eye your meal with jealousy, aside from a few, who look hungrily at their own plate. Valerius unapologetically begins to drink the wine placed before him. Of course. 

“Enjoy this delightful meal prepared tonight for you all. I expect nothing but clean plates and empty glasses for this fine feast!” With those words, the rest of the table begins to eat, though you notice a few only picking at the food. The four courtiers who were eager quite quickly dig in. You notice the Magician’s plate of food quite quickly diminishing, though you can't say you ever see the meal enter his mouth. Either way, Lucio seems delighted at his clear discomfort. In a small napkin, you place a small portion of your salad discreetly. Despite your wariness, you are certain some of the court will leave with empty stomachs. 

“Now, I have an announcement to each of you.” Lucio smiles, a glint in his eye that makes your stomach just slightly churn. “I am not unaware of certain… situations which have occurred in my absence. I remind you that your actions do have consequences, not only for yourselves, but for those close to you.” 

It's clear what it is that hangs in the air. A threat. Though rewarded for what is unclear to you. The slacking off as he was away? Possibly. Or possibly something you're just unaware of. Whatever it is, it likely won't be performed again. The silence is broken by the Count laughing, and slightly brushing your leg with his own as he jostles. You angle yourself subtly away, placing the napkin filled with vegetables in your sleeve. 

As the dinner ends, you clear your throat towards the doctor. He turns, warily, towards you. You subtly remove the napkin from your sleeve and slip it to him. 

“Oh, what--” 

“I know you didn't eat very much, as well as a few others. If you hear anyone complain, please gift them some of these vegetables. It isn't much, but… it's something. Arcana shine on you.” You turn, taking a step away. “Make sure As--- make sure the magician has a bit.” You take your leave. 

As you undress, you think back on the Tower's words. Trust nothing. You know better than to blatantly disregard such a warning. But if only because you fear what is lurking, what is coming to you, having allies will not do more harm than is wanted.


	6. Preparations of Indulgence: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feast Day is coming up, which means the Festival of Feasts begins tomorrow. You have a LOT to prepare for before the Feast Day service, and between that and wondering about your connection to a certain magician, you barely have a second to think for yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOO I UPDATED AGAIN IM SO SORRY I ALWAYS SAY I'LL UPDATE *SOON* AND I DONT FOR LIKE MONTHS. I had writers block really bad, and then when I finally got into writing again, I got so busy doing work and catching up on my courses for my last semester of senior year. No joke, I literally just read the ending update to the game TODAY, the day before frickin Easter. Suffice to say I've been busy but I should update again EVENTUALLY. At least during the summer I know for sure I'll be okay. No summer coursework to take care of (as far as i know haha). Expect updates to pick up more around mid June as I graduate at the beginning. Does anyone read these? If they do is it bad that im spewing my personal schedule? whack. anyway hope u enjoy this chapter oof.

Asra twirls you around the shop. Your feet carefully avoid slipping on the silks laid down across the floor, though it becomes increasingly more difficult as you become more dizzy. Eventually, you fall, and his strong arms catch you. 

“Asra, you always spin me too fast!” you laugh, closing your eyes and taking in his scent. 

“I can’t help it. You bring out my wild side, An.” He grins into your neck, and your hands move through his soft and fluffy hair. 

“I can’t get any work done when you’re around.” You sigh, turning to face him. The look he gives you melts your resolve, and you submit to his arms. Just a little while longer.

You lean up to kiss him. Your lips are inches apart, but a sound startles you.

You open your eyes to your room in the palace. Portia is just closing the door, in her arms a change of clothes for the day. “Sorry to wake you, my lady,” she apologizes, walking to your vanity and placing the clothes on the flat surface.

“It’s.. alright. You’re simply doing your job.” You shake your head, clearing it of the dream you had just experienced. It felt so real. You were certain you had never seen that place before. And you had especially never kissed someone before. You decided in the moment to meditate more on the Arcana in repentance for the thoughts.

Portia helps you to dress. Today, you wear a turtleneck dress with chiffon sleeves that hang loosely on your arms, skirt touching the ground. You braid your hair in a crown around your head, and fasten a veil to cover your face. At last, you put on a pair of lace gloves and white slippers. You’re ready to begin your day. 

When you reach the chapel, you close the doors behind you, and sigh. You take in the changes. 

The altar where you do your readings has been altered. Instead of a translucent silk partition, now there is a screen between where you will read and the patron will ask for blessings. You can barely see to the other side. Good. Inspecting behind, to your space, you see that instead of your usual modest pillow, you now have a chair. Testing it with the pressure of your hand, you find it comfortable. A jug of water, as well as an empty goblet, rest on a table next to the chair. Well, at least you won’t feel the strain on your knees anymore, and you won’t have to quench your thirst to avoid temporarily closing the chapel on break. It seems the Countess has taken your fears to heart. You make a mental note to thank her profusely later.

Exiting behind the partition, you take in the curtains that have been replaced. Instead of the purples and blues, they’re now red. Likely done to welcome back the count, and to signify the feast days in the sun cycle. The sun filtering through the windows and red silks takes on a pink tone, comforting you despite the rage of the curtains. And at last, the sieve. That, at least, remains the same, as well as the pews. 

You take your broom, sweeping the pews and floors of their dust. On your off days when the feast week begins, you’ll be sure to polish them before the service at the end of the week. Although you don’t get to partake in most of the festivities due to the piety of your role, your one responsibility is leading the final feast day service in the chapel. You’ll have a lot to do this week as the rest of the palace enjoys and prepares for the festival. Instead of eating the delicacies or dancing in the feast circle or watching the crowning the Harvest Girl, you’ll be braiding herbs and polishing the chapel, gathering spices for the Feast Flame, and writing the blessings pages for the ceremony. On top of that, you’ll need to also cleanse yourself in the way of the previous Prophets, to both pay homage and respect to the Major Arcana which you give your being unto. It’s a lot to do, but you feel energized doing so. However, for today, you must do your daily businesses as usual. 

You barely sit yourself down as the first patron comes in. At first the patron hesitates, not sitting in front of the partition. But you hear Portia’s soothing voice, encouraging her to sit and ask for blessings. “Go on, Petra. It’s okay.” 

The girl approaches. You see her silhouette, noticing she crouches and holds herself inwardly. When her voice speaks, it wavers slightly. “B-blessed day, Prophet. I ask for the wisdom of the Arcana.”

You pick up your deck, shuffling the cards with care. “Is there anything in particular you’re asking, Miss?” you ask, carefully setting down three cards, face down.

“Just if I can be f-forgiven,” she stutters. “I feel wrong. Dirty.”

You pause. “Miss, may I be bold to ask why you feel this way?”

“I-i don’t have the most pious job, my lady. And the things my own patron has said to me, and done to me… I feel I need to repent. I feel lost to my way.”

You flip over one of the cards. Strength. As you close your eyes, you hear her voice clear in your head. “Do not worry. It is not you who should feel that way. Trust your own self, and hold on to your core.” 

“Thank you, my lady. Thank you.” The patron slips a golden coin into the offering box, and bows. “Bless you!”

“Thank you for your patronage. Arcana guide you.” As she leaves, you can’t help but wonder just what could have happened to her. You can’t recall ever having heard her voice before, nor have you ever had someone quite so fearful to speak in front of you. Perhaps you could make her a special blessing, and have Portia deliver it. It would be nice to give her some extra strength, or at least reassurance.

The rest of the day goes as expected. Young serving girls asking for a little favor in maybe becoming the Harvest girl, male guards asking to have courage to ask some of the girls to dance, others asking for the yield of this year’s harvest to be good and to keep their bellies full until the next. You always did enjoy hearing people’s requests for blessings and readings before Feast week. They were always so wholesome, and made you feel warm within yourself. 

As you finish cleaning up for the day, replacing the water in the sieve again and dumping the jug of water into the olive tree outside of the doors. You smile, as you won’t have to sit inside all week like usual. You’ll get to spend most of your time outside in the garden, braiding the herbs and gathering spices, the last day of your break reserved for cleaning the chapel. 

You walk back to your quarters with an almost skip in your step. You were also relieved from taking dinner in the large room, as you would have a long week of preparation to do. Portia would be able to bring your room to your quarters, which you greatly enjoyed as you implored her to stay and share, wanting to speak to her more casually than you were typically able to. 

You removed your veil, and changed into a more comfortable silk dress, wrapping yourself in a red silk shawl that had been placed in your wardrobe as a gift for this week by the Countess. Although you couldn’t partake in the festivities, you could still have this one piece of indulgence.

Portia enters with your meal, bowing as she sets it down, and lingering for your request for her to stay. Despite the fact that you ask her to every year, she still can’t expect you will. You chuckle slightly, and gesture to the seat across from you. “Go ahead, Portia. Help yourself.”

She laughs as well, sitting across from you. “So, what’s the buzz around the palace? What kind of things are expected at the festival this year?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started,” Portia groaned, rolling her eyes. “As usual, the Countess is not loving the indulgences that the Count has ordered. It’s going to be even more gaudy this year, I hear.”

“The way you described last year’s festivities, I can’t imagine how much more indulgent the festival can get!” You chuckle, taking a bite of the multicolored squash on your plate. “What can top a giant solid gold cornucopia filled with pomegranates and gold leaved strawberries?” 

“Apparently, the Count wants a giant ice sculpture of himself that trickles out white wine, as well as a parade to to palace instead of holding it in the town square.”

“What? But the festival is always held in the square. The trek to the palace is too long and not everyone can make it up here on foot.”

“That’s what the Countess said! They compromised and there’ll be a procession to the palace on the last day so that everyone can enjoy your service. Only the really important people will be in the chapel though, I think.” 

Your eyes go wide. “That means I have to make thousands more blessings and herb braids than usual this year! What am I supposed to do?”

Portia gives you a pitying look. “Oh, I didn’t even think about that! I can stay here and help you, if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

“What? No! You deserve to enjoy the festivities. You work way harder than I do every year. You deserve the break. Besides, who’s going to tell me about the giant ice sculpture if you stay here with me?” 

She laughs. “Alright, alright. If you’re sure. I really hope you don’t completely go insane trying to do it all, okay? I’m sure it would be fine if you only made as many as you do every year, especially if it hasn’t been mentioned to you.”

You eat the last of the squash that you have. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’ll be fine. I just have to have faith in the Arcana. They have a plan.” You smile. “Thanks for sitting with me. I really do treasure this every year.”

She smiles and gets up, taking the plate in her hands with her. “Have a good rest of your night, my lady.” She opens the door.

“Wait!” You call, remembering. “I wanted to give that one patron you brought in a little extra blessing. I have one here somewhere.” You rummage around in your drawers, finally coming up with a small leather pouch. You hand it to her. “It should help calm her down. I put lavender in it, so smelling it would be nice.”

“I’ll be sure to try to find her, An. Now, for real, have a good night. You have a lot to do this week.” And with that, she was gone. 

You sleep fitfully during the night, your dreams dreamless. You can’t help but feel on edge when you awake in the morning. 

Something doesn’t feel right.


End file.
